


roots

by sweetwatersong



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Apples, Clint Barton's Farm, Coming Out, Family, Gen, Past Laura Barton/Natasha Romanov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 03:23:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10733130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetwatersong/pseuds/sweetwatersong
Summary: The family tree in the Barton household isn't so much a metaphor as an actual orchard out back. As long as Lila can remember it has been inextricably entwined with autumn and apples, and all those she loves.





	roots

**Author's Note:**

  * For [andibeth82](https://archiveofourown.org/users/andibeth82/gifts).



> For andibeth82, who asked long ago for warmth and comfort, and who gives it back so readily.

It is fall and Lila is gathering up fallen apples with delighted giggles, trying to carry all of them and repeating the process when they tumble out of her arms. It is Momma, watching with amusement, who shows her how to make a basket of her dress to bring the little harvest home.

It is fall and Daddy is helping her pick the fruit ordinarily beyond her reach, his hands steady on her legs as she perches on his shoulders. Lila tells him all about what she’s learned in school while the apples slowly fill her bucket with a profusion of red and yellow and green. He hums and nods and then laughs at her shrieking protests, the exclamations of “Daddy, don’t do that! You’ll make me fall!”

She never actually believes that, though, because she knows he’ll never let her go. That knowledge burns warm and bright in her heart in the crisp September day, a comfort against the chilly air, and he lets her ride high on his shoulders all the way home.

It is fall and it is definitely cider season, so Lila piles bruised apples into a bag she can sling over one shoulder and ignores the mountain of middle school homework waiting back at the house, the assignments and due dates and tests barreling down around the corner. There are a hundred and one things she should probably be doing tonight, could be doing instead of tending a simmering pot and letting the scent of cinnamon and nutmeg fill the air, but she won’t.

Mom will ask and Dad will step in, say that she’s “just a kid” and should have time to live a little. Then Cooper and Nate will wander into the kitchen and they’ll all drink fresh cider, still hot from the stove, while another autumn memory wraps its warm embrace around her.

It is fall and she’s not alone in the small gnarled orchard, has the company of her closest friend and the peals of their laughter as they toss mushy apples at each other, try to climb the branches to reach the best and the brightest. She catches the expression on Katie’s face when she succeeds in scrambling down with a bunch of beautiful apples, flushed and beaming with triumph, and even as something undeniable and warm spreads through Lila’s chest, her heart suddenly sinks.

The applesauce they make before working on their physics project tastes a little bitter despite an extra heaping of sugar.

Lila waits that week until she’s alone with Mom, cutting boards and apple slices ringing the kitchen around them, to say anything. Because the words are hard, they are prickling and uneasy in her mouth, but she’s never hidden anything from Laura. She doesn’t want to hide this.

She doesn’t want to need to hide this.

Fear coils up her throat and through her jaw as she puts the paring knife down to stare at the pale layers of fruit on the cutting board. If there’s one thing Dad taught her, though, it’s to never let fear stop her from doing anything. Even if he regrets it on occasion. Lila swallows her hiccupping laughter at the memories and clears her throat instead.

“Mom, I think I might be… I'm…”

It is singularly terrifying, trying to say the words on the tip of her tongue, because once they’re free she can never catch them and take them back, pretend they were never said. But her mom is looking up at her from the assembly line of pies, curious and calm, waiting for her to finish what she’s started. She’s learned to do that from both of her parents.

That gives her just enough courage to speak.

“I think I'm gay.”

Lila doesn’t made any effort to hide the uncertainty in her voice, the wobble that comes from a throat almost too tight to speak. Because she needs to know, she needs to know that this, this is -

“All right.” Laura’s voice is even and gentle, supporting. “It’s all right, Lila. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

And she knows the apples will brown if they’re left out too long, thinks that it’s stupid to have her eyes filling up until the kitchen blurs, but when she starts to cry her mother is right there, folding her into arms that have never let her fall.

“Ssh, ssh. You know we’d love you even if you loved a Martian, don’t you? Or an Asgardian.” Lila hiccups a laugh, just as her mother intended. “Hey, that worked out for some people. But you love who you want to, baby girl, and we’ll be behind you all the way.”

“‘Kay.” It’s so stupid, she’s seventeen and practically an adult, but at that moment Lila can’t imagine anything more comforting that her mom’s hug.

Laura kisses the top of her head. “Thank you for telling me.”

“You’re my mom,” Lila tells her, because that explains everything.

“And don’t you forget it.” They stand there for long minutes until Lila’s eyes have finally stopped watering and she can rub the last of the tears off her cheeks. The oven helpfully beeps to inform them that it’s finished preheating, only to be shushed by Laura. When Lila giggles her mom grins.

“Have I ever told you about Natasha?”

“Aunt Nat? Is she - like me too?”

“In a way. See, I loved her too, the way I love your dad. And she felt the same.”

Lila gapes at her. “No.”

“Yes.” Laura’s smile is infectious. “So whatever girl you love, Lila, I hope she is wonderful and smart and funny, because that’s the kind of person you deserve. And I hope you can take her out to pick apples with you all the days of the fall.”

That’s a good wish.

It is fall and the Barton clan is out in full force among the apple trees, calling banter back and forth beneath a golden October sun. Nate’s hanging off of branches as Laura warns him to be careful, Cooper is trying to nonchalantly answer Clint’s questions about his senior year of college, and Lila piles ripe apples into the baskets beside a visiting Natasha. The reserve Avenger catches her sneaking glances and offers her a quiet smile, her red hair the same gleaming shade as a handful of the apples she gathers.

It is weird, trying to think of her mother loving Aunt Nat that way, or at least weird only for a little while. Natasha has been a part of their lives for as long as Lila can remember, coming and going and coming again, and it just feels right to have her here with them. Whatever her mom and Aunt Nat may have gotten up to - a truly nose-wrinkling worthy thought - it doesn’t change the important thing: she’s with her family, with the people she loves, gathering apples up once more.

It is fall and she is home.


End file.
